I want to live up to my potential, something I’ve never given myself permission to do.

Until now.

Who was that little girl who loved to make things? When did she learn to self-censor?

Who was that high school girl who was aiming to land at the top of the heap when the rug was pulled out from beneath her feet? Why did she prefer to live in fear? Who convinced her that she was fragile?

Where is the young woman who soared in college only to fall down, pick herself up and finish with a whimper?

What happened ? Life happened. A life lived in fear. “I can’t make it on my own. I’m not enough, not equal to the challenge.”

Well,enough. ENOUGH! I’m not a little kid anymore (!) and I know I can do this. I dreamed this morning that I was climbing a steep rock while not exactly dressed for the task. I passed some young animals and gently but firmly told them to get out of the way. In spite of the dangers, I made it up to the top of the plateau and could see for miles ahead of my location. But most importantly for some reason, just as I reached the plateau my left hand touched a smooth glossy white rock that I used to climb up. What does that white rock mean? Guess I’ll take the year to find out.